


No Way Out but Through

by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, But who doesn't love the idea of a rain-soaked Hux and Ren????, Eventual Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Explicit Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Protective Kylo Ren, The use of rain as a blatant sexual metaphor, repressed hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:53:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sinopa, Idaho was a small town filled with even smaller dreams. Armitage Hux had long consigned himself to living his life stuck between the shadows of the Sawtooth Mountains and the drought-ridden plains, content with the safety and solitude of his own company, and with the money he earns working as a bartender at First Order. It was a life he had always thought adequate--that is, until the day a mysterious stranger wandered into Sinopa and showed him how very little he truly had to lose.<br/> <br/>[excerpt]:<br/>This was Sinopa. You don't drive to the local bar with your sleek and slant-nosed SUV and park it in a line of well-used Ford and Chevys. You don't wear your ebony hair long and tied in a bun, or decorate the fleshy lobe of your ear with jewelry, like a girl. You most certainly do not wear jeans that easily cost at least a week's worth of an average Sinopan's wages, ones so skinny and form-fitting they look to be painted on, or flash your tattoos and a smile so warm and sensual that it could only be perceived as an invitation for sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Out of Towner

**Author's Note:**

> _Len says one steady pull more ought to do it._  
>  _He says the best way out is always through._  
>  _And I agree to that, or in so far_  
>  _As that I can see no way out but through…_  
>  —Robert Frost, A Servant to Servants
> 
> *Artwork for chapter 1 by [**Sakurita94**](http://sakurita94.tumblr.com/)  
>  **Thank you _so_ much to the amazingly talented and incredibly sweet[ **@pangolinpirate**](http://pangolinpirate.tumblr.com/), who created the amazing [artwork](https://pangolinpirate.tumblr.com/image/157515330256) of the two boys in chapter 3. <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tall, dark, and mysterious stranger passes through Sinopa.
> 
> [excerpt]:  
> Ben sipped his stout slowly, as if weighing his options. He set the glass down, his tongue peeking out as he unconsciously licked the bit of foam off of his upper lip.
> 
> Hux's breath promptly caught in his chest.
> 
> "I'm looking at a piece of property over in Heinmot," he replied, looking down at his glass, not meeting Hux's eyes.

 

“Woooh, 'twas another scorcher today,” Phasma exclaimed. Condensation clung to the sides of the longneck as she pressed the amber glass against her face, the droplets trickling onto the valley of her neck and intermingling with her sweat.

Hux smirked as he lit a cigarette. The end of the Marlboro hissed and flared. He replaced the lighter into the pocket of his jeans and leaned back against the weather-beaten wood of the building as he inhaled, the rich and strong smoke curling into his lungs as he welcomed the faint buzz.

“Every day’s a scorcher, Phasma. If you haven’t noticed, it’s the middle of August, and all of Idaho’s stuck in a drought.”

Phasma set her bottle down, twisting it back and forth several times as it created an expanding indentation into the dried dirt. She reached up and attempted to gather her hair into a bun, grimacing as the short strands slid out from the thick, elastic grip.

“Come here,” Hux muttered, dangling the cigarette from between his lips as his nimble fingers reached up into her golden locks, deftly twisting them into a neat knot at the nape of her neck.

“Thanks. You know this is why I keep your sorry ass around,” she teased.

Hux stared out at the Sawtooth Mountains which lay to their west. The lowering sun was already casting long shadows across the lesser ridges, and the sky was turning a glorious orange-pink. There were few things that he liked about Sinopa, but the majesty of the surrounding landscape and his friendship with Phasma were some of the things he did.

He took one last drag as he spied the familiar rectangular grill and the straight, white paneled lines of the Styleside bed as the rusted pickup rumbled its way down the gravelly street.

“I’ll go in and get ready, boss,” Hux said, stamping out the glowing end of the butt as he ground it into the dirt, the dust promptly coating the front of his shoe. “Looks like old man Tarkin’s right on time.”

Phasma nodded, picking up her bottle and flicking off the small pieces of wet loam which had accumulated around the bottom before bringing it back to her lips.

“Yup. Like clockwork, that one. I updated the playlist, by the way. Put in some of your recommendations.” She drained the last dregs of her beer and basked in the rays of the setting sun. “I’ll be in in just a bit.”

Hux gestured his thanks as he entered the small kitchen, the screen door squeaking open loudly before being batted against its frame. He knew that the clientele who frequented First Order wouldn’t care if they heard the same ten songs day in and day out—it was not like they came in to the bar for the ambiance, anyway. But it made the hours that he had to spend in that small space, serving the same drinks to the same people and making the same talk, a little more bearable.

Hux tied an apron around his waist as he rinsed out a glass with cold water and brought it up under the tap. The half-inch foam crown was still sitting on top of the pale lager as Hux placed it at the end of the long counter.

A weathered and wiry hand grasped the curves of the pint glass, while another shoved three worn singles towards Hux.

"Thanks, Hux," Tarkin said, taking a long swallow as he sat.

Hux wiped down the wood in front of him, grimacing at the sticky rings from night before. He reworked the surface, his rag gliding over a knot in the wood, the years of grime and dirt having turned the once light wood into a dark brown.

"How are things going, Tarkin?"

"This Goddamn drought," Tarkin grumbled. "Looking at half the normal yield for the Spring Wheat harvest, never mind the problems it's going to cause for next year's crop. It's enough to make you want to sell it all and call it a day."

Hux took a look at Tarkin's face, noting the deep creases around his eyes and the hard lines which set off the hard press of his thin lips. The daily hours in the sun had baked his skin into a leathery brown, and his body and arms were shaped and hardened by a lifetime in the fields. Despite his protestations, Hux knew that Tarkin would live and die on that farm.

Phasma stepped in, clucking sympathetically as she leaned over the bar. Hux smiled knowingly as Tarkin's eyes glanced appreciatively over Phasma's ample chest. The guy was pushing his mid 60's, but he certainly wasn't dead.

"No rain in the forecast, then?" Phasma asked.

"They said there's something brewing from out West," Tarkin replied. "Don't think it's going to make it to us through the mountains, though."

"Doubt it." Piell slid in the seat next to Tarkin, as several more of the regulars filtered into the bar. He nodded at Hux as Hux poured a helping of Old Grand-Dad into a whiskey glass. He added a splash of water before handing it over to Piell, the older gentleman tipping his head in appreciation as he sipped the dark liquid, relishing the combination of sweet notes followed by the burn of the spicy rye.

Hux settled into his usual routine, filling and refilling drinks and making polite chatter. The sun outside had nearly set, as the neon "Open" sign hummed and flickered to life against the grimy window.

Phasma suddenly let out a low whistle. "Out-of-towner," she said as she spied a black Porsche Macan pulling into one of the painted stalls out front. "Damn. And a tall drink of water, to boot."

Hux turned, gaping at the man who was walking in. The noise in the bar dimmed at his entrance. It wasn't just the fact that he was a stranger, or that he was ridiculously tall and undeniably broad and strong, or that he commanded one's attention with his loping, long-limbed gait.

This was Sinopa. You don't drive to the local bar with your sleek and slant-nosed SUV and park it in a line of well-used Ford and Chevys. You don't wear your ebony hair long and tied in a bun, or decorate the fleshy lobe of your ear with jewelry, like a girl. You most certainly do not wear jeans that easily cost at least a week's worth of an average Sinopan's wages, ones so skinny and form-fitting they look to be painted on, or flash your tattoos and a smile so warm and sensual that it could only be perceived as an invitation for sex.

The interloper came up and directed his wide, 1000-watt smile at Hux.

"Sorry," he laughed sheepishly. "I'm a bit lost. My GPS isn't working, and there's no lights on the streets. Just want to know the best way to get to Shoshone from here."

Hux looked, fascinated by the varying angles of his face, the smattering of moles which decorated his cheeks and the stubble which darkened the slope of his chin. He flushed as he realized he was staring, and wiped the now-clean counter once more to cover up his discomfort.

"Shoshone's another fifty miles northwest of here," Hux answered. "But parts are pretty steep and windy, and if you're not familiar with the area--" he hesitated, taking a look at the Porsche outside. "It would probably take you two, maybe two and a half hours to get there. If you don't ruin your ride in the process, that is."

Tall, dark and handsome laughed again, this time with a warmth which caused an unfamiliar heat to develop in Hux's belly and settle uneasily in his chest.

"Yeah," he admitted ruefully. "It wasn't the smartest choice. That's the last time I'm leaving my car rental arrangements up to my assistant."

Hux fought the urge to roll his eyes. Assistant. Figures.

"You know any place around here where I can find some lodging instead? That doesn't involve me driving hours around in the dark, and probably off the side of a cliff?"

"Not here in Sinopa," Hux replied. "I think there's one about half an hour north of here in Little Falls. It's not in the same direction, but it's your best bet. They do dude ranch tours for vacationers, but I think they'll also give you lodging for the night." The guy oozed money, and he was sure that there were plenty of people in the area who were willing to help him part with it.

"You sure there's nothing else closer around here that can put me up for the night?" The stranger leaned forward and rested his tattooed forearm on the bar, the movement causing his hips to tilt in a languid and suggestive manner.

"None," Hux answered, his tone quick and harsh as he scanned the room. Luckily, everyone had already returned to their own conversations. Hux turned as he refilled Tarkin's glass, glad for the distraction. When he finished, the other male was still standing, waiting.

"OK," he said at last. "Little Falls it is. Help me out with some directions?"

Hux pulled out a piece of paper and started writing. The newcomer looked around, taking in the small and dark surroundings, and the thin music which blared from Phasma's tinny four speaker system.

"First Order, huh?" he said conversationally as Hux continued to write. "Interesting name for a bar."

"Yeah, well funny thing about that. We don't get many people coming through here who aren't local unless they're looking to use the facilities or ask for directions," Hux smirked, remembering the moment the name had come to Phasma in a drunken moment of inspiration. "So my boss came up with it. As in, _First, Order._ "

The other male laughed. "Ahh, sorry to hear that I'm so predictable. In that case, I'll have a Rochefort Trappistes. Bottled, please."

Hux winced. "We don't carry that. If you're looking for something dark and somewhat fruity though, we carry Grand Teton Black Cauldron. It's an Imperial stout, made around these parts. It's really good." He wanted to add that it was the kind of drink pretentious tourists ordered when they wanted to savor something local, but refrained.

"One Black Cauldron it is, then," Mr. Handsome agreed. He stuck out his hand. "Ben Solo, by the way."

Hux shook his hand, marveling at how his own was dwarfed by it. "Armitage Hux. But everyone calls me Hux."

Hux pulled out a bottle of Black Cauldron and a snifter. "May I?" he asked, indicating the glass. "It's better served this way."

Ben nodded. Hux poured and Ben brought it to his lips, sipping slowly. He tasted the notes of chocolate and coffee on his tongue, followed by that of dried fruit and the earthy and woodsy flavor of the smoked malt.

He lifted his eyebrow in surprise. "Wow, that _is_ good!" he exclaimed.

Hux smiled, nodding knowingly as he glanced down the bar towards the other customers. Everyone's drink was at least half or nearly filled, and Phasma was keeping the conversation going about the orders for the upcoming harvest.

Ben cocked his head as he listened to the strains of _Come On_ being played in the background.

"Ray Lamontagne," he commented. "Nice. I only got three stations coming in on the drive up, and they all seemed to be partial to the likes of Dierks Bentley and Garth Brooks. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added hastily.

"Actually, we've got four stations, but the last one's not music and probably not to your tastes, unless you're into sermons about Biblical truths and the importance of marriage and family. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added, supressing a smile.

"Yeah. Well, I'll be sure to rent a truck with satellite radio the next time I'm out here," Ben replied.

Hux looked at him quizzically, surprised to hear that there would be a 'next time.'

"What are you doing around here, anyway?"

Ben sipped his stout slowly, as if weighing his options. He set the glass down, his tongue peeking out as he unconsciously licked the bit of foam off of his upper lip.

Hux's breath promptly caught in his chest.

"I'm looking at a piece of property over in Heinmot," he replied, looking down at his glass, not meeting Hux's eyes.

Hux knew the place. The ranch had been sitting on the market for years, as the sellers refused to let is go to the developers. They've had their share of prospective private buyers, but the acreage was too huge and expensive to easily maintain. It was a financially weighty proposition for those who were looking to make a living working the land, and for those wealthy out-of-towners--well, once the romantic notion of communing with nature faded, the hard truth of living in this region tended to scatter those buyers away, too.

Hux knew the type: city folks, typically from the East or West coasts, who fell in love with the rugged Idahoan landscape while skiing in Sun Valley or rafting down the Snake. They would leave at the end of their weeklong vacations with fantasies of coming back and becoming one of the locals, of living that American mythology of the idealized cowboy way of life. But for those who had viewed the Heinmot property with such dreams in their heads, not a single one had visited twice.

See, the thing is, despite it's beauty, Sinopa and the surrounding area had its share of problems. The nearest airport was several hours away, the roads were at times rough and winding and slow, and there was not a Starbucks or yoga studio to be found. Many parts of the mountain range to the west were off the grid, and the wheat fields and prairies towards the east colored the roadways for mile upon endless mile. The drought had made the situation worse, painting everything in monochromes of yellows and browns, occasionally punctuated by the green of stilled machinery, or the graying shells of the weather-worn barns, or the single-storied churches with their rusted signs and Jesus figures and the subject of their weekly sermon spelled out in big, bold letters.

And if the absolute, rural nature of the area wasn't a turn off, then the people occasionally were. Hux found that most city folk were taken aback by the conservative thinking of the region, opinions which invariably clashed with their oftentimes liberal and PC ideals. The eventual buyer of the Heinmot property would not only have to be someone who wasn't bothered by such sentiments, but who was also really, really rich, and who truly embraced the notion of solitude.

If such a buyer existed, they haven't found him yet, and it's been years. Hux had no doubts that Ben Solo, with his fancy clothes and his fancy car and his fancy beer, would not be returning.

Hux tried not to think about why the idea of never seeing Ben Solo again left him with an empty longing in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah, I know the place. Good luck with that. It's a nice piece of property." As if that even made a difference.

Ben frowned, looking at the time. He pulled out his wallet as he finished his beer, scanning Hux's written directions as he fingered a twenty from within the supple leather and handed it over to Hux.

"No, keep it," Ben said as Hux reached out to give him his change. Hux raised his eyebrow even as he muttered his appreciation. The tip was enough to cover Ben's drink several times over.

"Thanks for everything," Ben added as he stood and turned to go.

Hux picked up the empty glass, trying to tamp down a sudden feeling of loneliness as he pictured Ben's long and masculine fingers curling around the delicate stem. He bent down, placing the glass in the dirty bin, only to look up to realize that Ben had made his way back to the bar.

"Hux," Ben said in a rush. "I know this is a lot to ask, but you're one of the few people around here who looks to be close to my age. I liked talking with you, even though I know you were somewhat of a captive audience, with me being a paying customer and all. But I was wondering--could you show me around tomorrow? I would pay you for your time, of course."

Hux furrowed his brow. "Kinda like a tour guide?" He didn't want to think about how else "paying for his time" could be construed.

"Exactly," Ben grinned. "I've got a meeting with the realtor tomorrow at 10, but figure I'll be done around 11, 11:30 at the latest. I'd like to know what else there is to do for fun in these parts."

Hux was questioning whether Ben would stay as committed to hanging around after viewing the property tomorrow. He also questioned why he was seriously entertaining the idea of spending an entire day with the man. He could always use the money, he finally rationalized, as he jotted down his information and gave it to Ben.

"The top number is for my cell, and the bottom is my landline, in case you can't reach me." he said. "I have to be at work by 7:30, but I can show you around until then." He hesitated. "There's not a lot of stuff to see, though. Like, we're the only bar around, and there's just one place for groceries and a small movie theater for entertainment. Unless you want to check out Sawtooth."

"That would be amazing!" Ben exclaimed.

"Uhmmm...do you have anything more appropriate for a day hike?" Hux asked, taking in his jeans and leather hipster chukkas. "I don't think any of my things would fit you."

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that," Ben anwered, his face falling.

"It's OK," Hux said quickly. "There's a couple of sporting goods stores on the way. You can always pick up something there, if you need to."

"Sounds like a plan. So I'll give you a call tomorrow and pick you up when I'm done?"

Hux looked out the window at the Porsche.

"Nahh, I'd better pick you up. Unless you bought plenty of insurance to go with that rental."

Ben laughed, the sound sliding over Hux's skin and enveloping him in its warmth.

"Ok, Hux. It's a date. See you tomorrow, then." He gave Hux a cocky grin, his golden eyes lightening with mischief as he sauntered out of the door and into the starry night.

Hux told himself it was the extra money, and that the butterflies which were wreaking havoc in his stomach had nothing to do with the fact that he would be spending the day with a beautiful man he had only met half an hour before.

" ' _Kay_ ," he said exhaling, addressing no one in particular.

 


	2. Blocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Ben spend the day exploring the magnificent Sawtooth wilderness. What could possibly go wrong?
> 
> [excerpt]:  
> He continued to float. The sounds of splashing grew louder as a pair of legs suddenly appeared in front of him. Hux stood, his lungs filling with the clean air.
> 
> Hux looked at the snowfields which persisted despite the August heat, its bright white painting the crevices between the gray, granite peaks.
> 
> "It's beautiful," he breathed.
> 
> "Yes, it is," Ben murmured, his eyes firmly on Hux.

 

Hux ran the skillet under the faucet, the remnants of his fried egg and potatoes resisting his efforts as he scraped the browned material from the edges and the water collected and sputtered into the growing mess.

He stared out the window as the detritus began to loosen and float.  The thermometer outside was already registering 85 degrees, and the needle was inching forward with each passing hour. He turned the window's crank clockwise, hoping for a breeze, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and he had to settle for the high-pitched whirring of the field crickets and fork-tailed katydids which came in through the angled pane instead.

If he craned his neck, he could just make out several of the grazing Holsteins from Piell's farm.  He sighed as he noted that their red and black tails were pointed west. It looked as if the old man was right; rain didn't seem to be in the forecast, at least not for tonight.

He went back to scouring the residue from the pan as well as the sticky yolk from his plate, rinsing them quickly before placing the items in the dish rack which sat to the side. Years of use had caused the plastic to warp and crack, and the rubber mat underneath had turned an alarming shade of gray. He watched as the pan slowly tilted, the droplets of water sliding off the cast iron surface and onto the surface beneath.

An angry shout broke through the silence.  He swiveled his head towards the television screen, where an obscenity or three burst forth from a woman clad in a fluorescent pink top and acid-washed jeans.  The noise grew as a shamefaced man cowered and the studio audience bellowed while the host smugly egged them on. Hux puttered around the apartment, shaking and picking through the containers of sunblock and insect repellant before placing the near-full ones in his bag.  He added some trail mix to the side pocket and grabbed an extra bottle of water, hesitating briefly before maneuvering it neatly into the bottom of the pack.

The seconds ticked by like minutes.  The sun rose, the buzzing outside growing louder and higher in his ears. 

He tried not to think about how quickly he reached for his phone when it finally rang.

"Hey."

"Hey."  He could hear Ben's easy going grin from the other side.  "We're finished here.  I'm leaving my car at the realtor's office in Heinmot instead of traveling back to Little Falls. I figure it would be easier, this way."

"Good idea."  Hux aimed for appropriately casual, but it came out as an excited squeak.

"Sooo," Ben drawled after a pause.  "Are you coming to pick me up?  Or am I going to stand around looking at the _Canyon Ranch Properties_ sign all afternoon?"

"Would be a shame to let you think that's the best sight Idaho has to offer.  I'm on my way now."

'Kay. See you soon.  And Hux?"

"Yeah?"

"Uhhh-no comments regarding today's sartorial choices.  It's the best that I could manage on such short notice."

If Hux wasn't already in a rush to get to Heinmot, Ben's last comment caused him to dash out of the apartment out of sheer curiosity. 

Heinmot. Hux could get there in as quick as fifteen minutes, if he pushed.  He ran to the Jeep, ignoring the swift burn as he slid into the already hot seat, and pulled into the Canyon Ranch parking lot in under just under thirteen.

He smiled as Ben climbed out of the Porsche.   He watched as a long leg shot out, the hem of the tan Carhartt duck pants coming up several inches above his ankles to show off his marled quarter socks.  Ben's torso followed next.  It was clothed in a tee which had seen better days, the threadbare material stretching tightly across the planes of his chest as the ragged hem barely dipped below his waist.  It probably didn't help that the shirt was being pulled in all directions as Ben stood and stretched, the expanse of his muscles flexing deliciously underneath.

Ben caught Hux looking.  Instead of looking sheepish, he shot him a cocky grin, turning around slowly as if to model the latest in hiking gear.  The proportions were all off: the inseam too short, the waist too low, and the rise too high, but the effect only served to highlight the shapeliness of his ass and the girth of his thighs.  He wore his hair loose, the fringe falling forward and skimming his brow.  Out of a button down and in the broad daylight, Hux could see that Ben's tattoo was quite large, the intricate pattern covering the widest part of his forearm and scrawling past his elbow until it disappeared underneath the edge of his sleeve.

"Bummed the pants off one of the workers.  Closest thing we could come up with, that wouldn't cut off my circulation or raise my voice up an octave," Ben said, taking in Hux's amused expression.

Hux laughed.  "Shirt too, I see."

"Oh, no," Ben smirked.  "That one's all mine."

They drove northwest; the heat, which rippled in waves off the wide valley floor, gradually lessened as they began to climb. The highway followed the path of the Big Wood River, winding through the arid foothills as the outlines of granite-spired peaks drew near.  The Jeep's engine began to strain as the temperature cooled, brown turned green, and the cottonwoods and maples made way for the hemlocks and lodgepole pines.

Hux pointed out the spectacular vista as they approached Galena Summit.

"This is the highest highway summit in the Northwest," he said, pointing to the sign which signaled that they had reached 8,701 feet.  He stopped at the pullout.  "Great trails for cross country skiing and snowshoeing."  He looked at Ben pointedly.  "We've got dirt roads and a lot of snow up here though, so if you're interested in that sort of thing, it would be best to invest in a four-wheel drive."

Ben whistled as he looked at the panoramic view, the sides of the mountain spilling and tilting out into the foothills and down to the meadows of the vale below.

"Man.  This is everything.  Are we going to hit one of the trailheads around here?"

"I've got one in mind.  It's about seven miles roundtrip, and there's some switchbacks and scrambling involved.  But there's also a gorgeous alpine lake at the end, if you're up for a cold swim."

Ben looked at him, eagerly accepting the challenge.  "Lead the way."

They passed a town at the base of the craggy, snow-capped peaks.  It was small--even smaller than Sinopa, a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of town with a population numbering sixty one.  The buildings conjured up visions of the Old Western frontier, fashioned out of brown planking topped with purlin roofs and surrounded by split log fences.  Hux parked at the town's edge, catching his reflection in the Jeep's window as he closed the door.

He stared briefly at his muted image. It was not dissimilar to how he looked ten years ago when he arrived in Sinopa at the age of nineteen. Perhaps his face was now a bit harder, a bit leaner, but his skin was still smooth and wrinkle-free, despite the altitude’s harsh winters and bright sun. His hair—transitioning depending on the season between ginger red and a stawberry blonde -- was the last remaining tie to his asshole of a father, and still thick and free from any signs of fade.

Hux led them across a small bridge bordered by buckwheat and sundew.  The trail grew steep as they hiked deeper into the mountains, the width of the path narrowing and disappearing in sections as they progressed.  The mid-afternoon sun reflected off the face of the jagged cliffs, the sheer drops dotted with the tight green foliage of the rocky spines which shot valiantly into the clear blue sky.  The pair worked sure-footedly along the switchbacks as the glaciated canyon floor pitched off dangerously to the side and their lungs filled with the tangy scent of sweet and sticky pine.  When they reached the clearing, Hux heard Ben's intake of breath, which had nothing to do with the last hard scramble up the granite scree.

The lake sparkled, with water so clear you could see straight down to the rocks below, framed by the bony, fractured peaks of the Sawtooths rising above.  Hux was not a religious man by any means, but he often thought that being here was as close to epiphany as one could be.

Ben sat down on a flat expanse of a rock and gratefully took the bottle from Hux.

"Thanks," he said, downing the water in several gulps.  Hux watched as Ben's lips curled over the opening, the lines of his throat working as he swallowed the liquid down.  Ben let out a pleasured sigh as finished.  He tilted his head back, the sun warming his face, a droplet of water hanging from the corner of his mouth before handing the bottle back to Hux.

Hux settled down next to Ben.  They sat in companionable silence, watching as a pair of Swainson hawks swooped in circles overhead and the gray jays chattered and whistled in the background.

"So you're really thinking about buying something out here?" Hux asked.

"Yeah.  Thinking pretty seriously about it, actually."

"Like a vacation place, or something more permanent?" 

Ben watched Hux for a second before looking out across the water.  "Neither, to be exact.  I spend most of my time in LA.  I like it out here, though--the privacy, the solitude."

Hux looked down.  He took a small rock and scraped it along the surface on which they sat.

"LA must be glamorous."

"It's alright." Ben hesitated, then relaxed his shoulders as he confessed.  "I live there because of my job.  I'm an actor.  Lately, I've been doing film.  Mostly indie ones, Sundance kind of stuff."

He turned.  Hux had thought that Ben's eyes were a dark brown, but as they reflected the light from the sky and the sun, they appeared a molten gold.

"I just finished shooting something that's--well, the opposite of small.  That's probably the understatement of the century." He laughed, the sound a strange combination of embarrassment and excitement. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy to have gotten the part. But I've spent so much of my life trying to stay out of the spotlight, and when the movie comes out, I'll be thrust in it again.  I value my privacy, and it's a near impossibility in LA."

Hux sucked in his breath between his teeth.  _Shit._   He had no idea that Ben was an actor.  A fucking celebrity. 

"So what's the movie? Is it like _The Avengers_ or something?"

Ben smiled enigmatically. "Or something."

"Wow.  So you're basically looking to pull a Harrison Ford, just out in Idaho instead?"

Ben startled, looking at him strangely.

"Interesting comparison, but yeah."

Hux stared, a million unanswered questions on the tip of his tongue. The mid-afternoon sun was unrelentingly hot even in this altitude, and he felt a bead of sweat form on his brow.

"Can I ask you something?  If you value your privacy so much, then why---I mean, the way you dress, what you drive."  _The way you look._   "You don't look like you're trying very hard to hide."

Ben looked at Hux strangely.  "I'm _not_ trying to hide _._   What does what I wear--or for that matter, what I eat, or where I go, or who I fuck--have anything to do with my right to privacy?

"Of course it doesn't," Hux amended quickly.  "But it's human nature.  You're inviting people to talk."

There was an angry glint in Ben's eyes.  "I'm not inviting anything.  I'm just trying to be who I am."  He picked up a small stone, fingering the irregular surface against the palm of his hand.  He turned it over several times, as if mulling over the variegated colors and rough edges, before side arming it into the lake.  The faint _plop_ seemed to echo throughout the vast space, the ripples from its impact spreading out before disappearing underneath the water's surface.

Ben grunted, before pulling off his shirt.  Hux tried not to stare as the taller male lay back, rolling up the cloth and placing in under the nape of his neck.  He tried to keep his eyes busy; there was only one hawk visible now, its form silhouetted against the sun, diving and arcing in its lethal grace.

It was so quiet that he thought Ben may have fallen asleep.

"I grew up in the public eye, you know."  The words were soft, and when Hux looked down, Ben had cracked one eye open.  His hand was raised to his forehead, shading himself from the glare of the sun.  "My mom and dad were no strangers to the media.  Activists, turned politicians.   Even our family vacations weren't private; you can't imagine what it was like.  There was nothing off limits.  The school I went to, my first kiss, every little event put out there and treated like it was the most important thing in the world."

Hux blushed furiously as he remembered his own first kiss. He was only eight, sleeping over at his best friend's house during the last week of summer break. They had been huddled under the covers of Thanisson's twin bed, talking about girls. Thanisson confessed his crush on Katie Unamo, and the two of them had bet on whether Thanisson would be able to make Katie his girlfriend and kiss her by year's end.  Hux had joked off-handedly that Thanisson's familial greetings with his parents didn't count as real kisses, and that Thanisson wouldn't have the faintest idea of what to do should Katie prove willing.

Which is why Thanisson suggested that they practice, and being the great friend that he was, Hux of course had agreed. Their kiss had been clumsy and sloppy, all chapped lips and clacking teeth. But when Thanisson pulled back, embarrassed and perhaps a bit horrified, Hux was left mortified upon realizing that despite their obvious inexperience, he had actually _liked_ it.  That when he looked at Thanisson--beautiful with that swirling confusion in his brown eyes and the reddening of his swollen lips, the faint scent of his Ivory soap and the firmness of his slim chest--he had wanted _more_.

Ben leaned back again, closing his eyes.  "By the time I was older, they moved on to the next celebrity kid du jour.  Thank God.  I was finally able to do the things that I wanted, to make a life for myself.  Not as Ben Solo, son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, but Ben Solo, semi-successful actor."  He flashed a cocky grin.

"I get that."  Hux glanced at Ben. He looked so peaceful, his broad chest rising and falling with each deep and steady breath.  "And I guess it's hard, not only on you, but on the other people in your life.  Your family, your girlfriend."

Ben shrugged.  "No girlfriend.  No boyfriend either, for that matter," he added meaningfully as he looked at Hux.

Hux shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.  He didn't know where to look.  Away would be obvious and rude, and there was nowhere safe on Ben.  It was either into his knowing eyes, or at his sinfully plush lips, or his wide shoulders, or his perfectly sculpted chest.  If he looked down, he saw Ben's defined stomach-- _Good Lord, was that an eight-pack?--_ dotted by the line of dark hair which trailed below the waistband of those ridiculously endearing pants.

Hux flicked his eyes upwards, to the relative safety of Ben's tattoo.  The intricate design covered the greater part of his left forearm and reached towards his shoulder like a sleeve.  The inky markings filled his skin with a geometric pattern of parallel lines and shapes, both thin and bold, angular and circular, complex yet co-existing in perfect symmetry. 

Ben caught the direction of Hux's wandering gaze.  "I was fascinated by Polynesian tattoos ever since I saw them as a kid.  I knew I was going to get one as soon as I was old enough."

Hux leaned forward, mesmerized by the patterned lines.

"It's not just a skilled art.  The images and shapes also have meanings."  Ben brought his arm up and around as he pointed to the different patterns.  "A spearhead symbolizes courage and the will to fight.  The Marquesan cross shows a balance between the elements and harmony.  The sea shell is for protection and family."  He looked at Hux.  "And intimacy."

As if with a mind of its own, Hux's extended his fingers, tracing the blackened nautilus-like curve and jagged edge on his skin.  Ben stilled, the muscles tensing underneath Hux's tentative touch.

Ben stared at Hux as they looked at each other in awkward silence.  When Ben finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"I'm going in for a swim."

He stripped out of his pants quickly, and before Hux could say anything his boxers were on the ground as well.  He walked to the edge of the lake, and Hux couldn't stop staring at the corded muscles of Ben's defined back, or the way his muscular buttocks flexed with each step of his powerful legs.

"Are you coming in?" Ben asked, turning halfway around.

Hux couldn't answer even if he wanted to.  The words died in his throat, thwarted by the dryness of his mouth and the loss of his breath.

Life could not be this unfair.  The fates could not have graced Ben Solo with such height, strength, and beauty, and still found him worthy enough to adorn that glorious body with the most magnificent cock Hux had ever seen.

Hux squeezed his eyes tight.  He heard the swirling of water as Ben entered the lake, followed by a larger splash, but all Hux could picture was how Ben's perfectly shaped prick had lay there when he had turned, long and heavy and thick against his thigh.

"Fuck, that's cold!" Ben spluttered, laughing as he stood. He dove in again, his body arcing below the water as Hux watched him from underneath his half-lidded eyes.

Ben righted himself once more, the lake water sluicing down his back.  Even from the shore, Hux could see the clear droplets hanging from his nose and sliding down those angular cheeks.  Ben raised his arms, brushing back the locks of hair which had lay dripping and heavy in front of his eyes.  When he finished, he kept his hands behind his head, momentarily looking like Poseidon greeting the sun.

Ben cocked an eyebrow in challenge.  "So.  Are you joining me, or what?"

Hux stood.  He shed his shirt and his jeans, hesitating as he remained clad in his white briefs.  There was no one else here but the two of them, nor was there likely to be.  Goat Lake was not one of the more popular trails, and a Monday in late August meant even fewer hikers.

Ben said nothing as his eyebrow remained arched.  Hux was not ashamed of his lean and wiry frame, but he had never felt completely comfortable in his own skin.  He took a deep breath, shoving the underwear down to his ankles and stepping out of them quickly before he could change his mind.  He hurried to the water's edge and waded in.

The cold water surprised him with its sharp sting.  He could feel his skin raising into little goosebumps in protest, to mention nothing of his dick and his balls, which seemed to be retreating back into the warmth and safety of his body at an alarming rate.  To save himself any further embarrassment, he held his breath and dove in.

The water swirled and slid over him.  The sunlight glinted over the floor, reflecting the mountains and the sky.  The soreness of his muscles numbed in the cold, and he felt detached and nearly weightless as he floated with the kiss of the sun on his back.

He continued to float.  The sounds of splashing grew louder as a pair of legs suddenly appeared in front of him.  Hux stood, his lungs filling with the clean air.

Hux looked at the snowfields which persisted despite the August heat, its bright white painting the crevices between the gray, granite peaks.

"It's beautiful," he breathed.

"Yes, it is," Ben murmured, his eyes firmly on Hux.

Hux's nipples were hard and puckered from the cold, yet he felt nothing short of feverish. He watched as Ben moved in, hard muscled and with a wolfish expression on his face.

The cooing and _peta-pete_ calls of the flushing grouse faded as Hux first felt the tickle of Ben's breath.  A hot tongue flicked out, licking the skin behind Hux's ear before working its way down to the crook of his neck.  Ben's mouth was demanding, nipping over Hux's pulse point, the sensation shooting straight down to his cock as it swelled and hardened in response.  Hux wrapped his hands around the nape of Ben's neck, his thin fingers twining into those long, ebony locks as he directed Ben towards his mouth.

Ben's licked the droplets off of Hux's lips, tasting the alpine water mixed with the salt of Hux's sweat.  He smelled of spice and musk and the mountain air, his tongue stifling Hux's moan as it slid in between Hux's slightly parted lips.  The water gently swirled, pushing Hux forward as his feet gripped against the slippery floor, the rocks smooth and sloping against the soles of his feet.  He tilted unsteadily until he felt a pair of strong hands traveling reaching around the small of his back, drawing him closer and holding him firm.

Ben's large hands kneaded Hux's ass, his grip growing possessive and needy.  Hux nearly mewled as his cock was pushed up against Ben's, throbbing yet insistent and so achingly hard.  His hips tilted forward of their own accord and he began to rut, seeking friction against that delicious thickness, so long and slick.

Ben's voice broke through the lusty haze.  "God, I want you so much Hux," he growled as his skilled fingers slipped into the space between Hux's cheeks.

Hux stiffened.  His breath stuttered in inadequate huffs, too fast and shallow.  He looked around wildly and turned, his heart slamming against his ribs as he desperately pushed against the water in an attempt to reach the shore.

"Hux!  Wait!"

Hux's limbs flailed as Ben lumbered after him, his legs making up the distance in several long strides as they reached the water's edge.  Hux's vision blurred as he struggled to pull on his jeans, the denim sticking to and catching against his wet skin.

"Hux, please."  Ben stood, naked and dripping wet.  "I'm sorry if I misread things.  Are--are you with someone?  I thought..?"

Hux turned to Ben, his eyes wet and fierce.  He opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it as his shoulders slumped down.

"There's no one," Hux said, sighing as he took a seat.  "There hasn't been anyone, for a long time."

Ben watched Hux carefully.  When he realized Hux wasn't about to bolt, he relaxed slightly, shrugging on his clothes.  When he finished, he took a seat beside him and waited patiently.

Hux looked out across the lake.  It's vastness seemed to mock him.

"I can't do this.  You're just a visitor; you'll have your fun, and leave.  This is where I _live_ , where I have to stay," he said dully.

He grew angry at Ben's quizzical look.  "Sinopa's not San Francisco, or New York, or LA," he said.  "There's no out-and-proud parades, or galleries looking to host the next Mapplethorpe retrospective, or viewers champing at the bit for LOGO-type programming on TV.  This is _cowboy country_ , Ben.  Flag-waving, NRA-supporting, live-and-breathe-until-I-die-Republican country.  You just can't get away with this kind of stuff here."

For years, Hux had tried to fit in.  He struggled with his shame, trading in the memories of his first kiss for those with girls, so cleanly scrubbed and pigtailed and soft.  He glanced at the nudie magazines with the rest of his classmates, engaging in the usual comments about their huge tits or wet pussies, things which did absolutely nothing for his dick.  He even took pretty, sweet Jessika Pava to the prom--a catch, said his friends, and the head cheerleader to boot.  Jessika had turned down the school quarterback in favor of Hux, because she respected Hux's 'Godly' behavior.  She never realized that the reason he never pressured her for sex had nothing to do with his religion, but rather because she possessed a chest and an ass which were too soft and too curved for his tastes.

He had resorted to porn.  The internet had been both a blessing and a curse.  A blessing, in that it had provided him with a crash course in sexual education and a lifetime's worth of spanking material in the process.  A curse, because there was nothing which could have prepared him for the humiliation and the pain which resulted when his online activities were finally uncovered.  His mother had wailed, and his father had  _whaled_ \--striking him to within an inch of his life. _To beat the faggot out of you_ , Hux Sr. had said, before hauling him off to church to make him repent for his sins.

"So you've never been with a guy?" Ben asked softly.

"No.  I've thought about it, and God knows I've jerked off to the idea of it.  But I've never experienced it."  Hux laughed bitterly.  "At least I'm not a total virgin.  That glorious experience came right after high school.  Imagine, a stag party, with a girl who's being paid to shove her tits in your face as she grinds into your cock in front of your friends, and the only way you can come is by imagining she's the groom."

Ben looked at him sorrowfully.  "If you're so miserable here, why do you stay?"

"And go where?  I've got no family to speak of.  No money, and nowhere to go."

"And what do you have if you stay here?  You're what, thirty?  You stay and hide behind these barriers you've thrown up around yourself, and for what purpose?  To lock yourself into some loveless marriage with a girl who deserves better because you're thinking about her brother while you fuck her, or to live out the remaining sixty years of your life alone?"

A wave of anger washed over Hux.  "That's easy for you to say," he spat.  "You've got it all.  A job you love.  Financial security.  A supportive family."

Ben snorted. "You think it's any easier for me? That the popular notions of what it means "to be a man" doesn't exist in New York or LA? You think that it was easy for me when I discovered my preference for men, living with the guilt of how it could affect my family and their position in the public eye? Or perhaps you think that it was smooth sailing when I had to fight my agent _and_ my publicist, both of whom wanted me to keep my homosexuality under wraps while engaging in a studio-manufactured, hetero romance?"

Hux looked away.  "It's not the same.  You're you, and I'm me."

Ben stared at him for a long moment.  "You're a coward, is what you are."

The words hit Hux harder than if Ben had slammed his fist into his face.  He's been called names before; his father had slung them out with regularity. _Fag.  Homo. Shit stabber.  Deviant.  Sinner._

But he thinks that none may have hurt more than this.

Hux stood, unable to help the tears which threatened to spill from his eyes.  He angrily pulled at his shirt, everything feeling tight and sticky and just plain old _wrong._

"Fuck you, Ben," he wheezed, his gasps and saliva falling unattractively from his mouth.  Everything suddenly tasted so sour.  "Fuck you."

"God Hux, I didn't mean it like that."  Ben's face was flushed with guilt.  "I'm really sorry."

Hux didn't turn around.  He needed to get out, to get away from Ben  _now_.

He propelled his body forward, not caring if he was acting like a dick.

"I'm heading back now.  If you want a ride, you'd better keep up behind me, or you're on your own."

The hike back was sheer agony.  Everything was so angry and tense, and the beauty of the surroundings, so magnificent in the sunlight, looked foreboding with the lowering sun.  Hux didn't slow down as he descended over the steep drops, nearly stumbling as he twisted his foot on the slimy and slippery scree. He heard Ben behind him, huffing along in patient silence, taking the punishment that Hux was inflicting upon him as he set a brutal pace.

But even with the quickened speed, the return trip seemed interminable, and the drive back was no better.  Hux sat in angry stillness, trying to negotiate the winding turns as quickly as he could as the shadows continued to lengthen and fall.  In an effort to distract himself from the uneasy silence, he made the mistake of turning on the radio the second they hit the valley floor. 

Hux let out a snort when he heard a male voice croon sadly against the plaintive wails of the steel and acoustic guitars:

 _Well gone so long and all alone, too far gone to try_  
_With all them dreams and all them scenes just living in my mind_

 _Fuckityfuckfuck._   _Fucking Garth Brooks_.  _Figures_ , Hux fumed, as he silenced the mocking words.

They drove the rest of the way in stilted silence, Ben occasionally shifting as he uneasily rearranged his tall frame and repositioned his long legs against the floor.  His huge, physical presence was a near-impossibility to ignore, and the heat and apology seemed to roll off his body in waves, filling the Jeep as well as Hux's nostrils and lungs and suffocating him in his misery.

Hux had never been happier to reach the town limits of Sinopa and Heinmot.  He slid into the parking lot of the realty, braking hard and choking back an angry satisfaction as the car pitched forward next to Ben's Porsche.

He kept his head forward as Ben turned.

"Look, Hux.  For what it's worth, I'm truly sorry.  You're right--I'm not you.  I shouldn't have said what I did."

Hux stared ahead, looking at the worn edges of the _Canyon Ranch_ sign, suddenly fascinated by the faded lettering which had begun to warp.

Ben shifted nervously.  "Uhhh--I still owe you for the day."  He fumbled for his wallet.

"Is $500 ok?" He swallowed, suddenly flustered upon seeing the hard look on Hux's face.  "$1000?"

"Jesus, Ben.  I don't want your stupid money!"  Hux shouted, reduced to the vocabulary of a ten year old.  His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

"Let me at least cover the gas," Ben said, holding out the bills beseechingly.

Hux's impotence was swallowed by his rage.  He began to push, to prod, doing all he could to get Ben's hulking body out the damn door.

"Get out, OUT!"

Ben held his hands up in surrender.  He opened his mouth in a last entreaty, but the words became lost in the sound of the slamming and locking door.

Hux took off, the dust kicking up behind him as the Jeep gathered speed.  He refused to look back, to see if Ben was still watching him with the same pitying and apologetic look on his face.  Piell's farm loomed ahead.  It seemed so sad and lifeless in the dying rays of the setting sun, the machinery unmoved and the crops half barren.  The landscape continued for several miles more until he finally came up to the well-worn shape of a single story building, decorated with its weather-beaten siding and a neon _Open_ sign on the front.

Everything about this place should have been comforting and familiar.

Hux had never felt so empty or useless in his life.

Phasma was standing outside, looking out into the mountains as she sipped her beer, her blond hair nearly white against the orange sun.

"Phasma," Hux croaked.  Her eyes widened and the tears finally broke as he fell into her arms, loose and hot and heavy, their bitterness stinging the back of his parched throat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics: "She Don't Care About Me," by Garth Brooks


	3. Pushing Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux reassesses what he truly wants out of life
> 
> [excerpt]:  
> The Jeep's tires crunched on the gravel road as it inched slowly forward. The house was framed against the sprawling backdrop of the Sawtooths in the distance, yet perhaps the most beautiful thing was what lay directly ahead.
> 
> A figure stood, tall against the darkening sky. Hux could see the singed paper and the burning tobacco leaf which glowed red with each inhalation of those pursed lips. A lump formed in his throat as he took in the bricolage of sharp angles and soft curves, so beguiling in their imperfection, the man's ebony hair blowing wildly in the gusting wind.

 

Hux lifted his head slowly.  He opened a bleary eye, squinting from the sun which was slanting unmercifully across his bed.  His temples throbbed, and his mouth tasted as if his stomach had upended its contents overnight in a fit of pique. 

He swore as he stood, disentangling himself from the sheets which had wound themselves around his unsteady legs as he forced a glass of water past his cracked lips and dry throat.

Hux grimaced.  Four bottles of Bud and two double shots of Wild Turkey after a day of hiking and a shitload of tears had done little to wash the pain away.

He had gone through the motions of filling and refilling their drinks, never leaving any of the First Order patrons wanting for libation or polite conversation. He even managed the occasional smile.  Perhaps it was a bit forced, he conceded, becoming tighter and thinner as the night progressed.

Hux sighed in frustration.  It was all anyone could talk about around here: the damn drought; their low crop yields; and the inability to fill their orders, all the time wondering whether tomorrow would be better, or whether it would bring more of the same.  And Hux would listen, throwing them a sympathetic smile here or a trite platitude there, just as he had done the day before and which he would most assuredly do again tonight.

Well, perhaps not tonight.  Phasma had pulled Hux aside after taking away what would have been his third helping of Kentucky bourbon, requesting that he take the day off.  She probably didn't take too kindly to the fact that Hux had let out a loud expletive when Tarkin had continued to nurse his beer, half an hour after last call.

Hux wondered if this was to be his future as well: sitting alone in a dark bar, making small conversation with people who weren't exactly strangers, but who also weren't exactly your friends.  Hanging on desperately to your last drink, because the alternative to pissing off the bartender who longed to go home was to return to the sad one that was your own.

His phone buzzed.  It was the latest in a string of unanswered texts.  They had started last night, so frequent and persistent in the beginning that Hux had turned off his phone. They were variations on the same theme: _Sorry,_ and _Can I can make it up to you?_ followed by _Please respond,_ complete with a crying face emoji.The pleading later changed to concern, laced with a hint of self-righteousness: _At least let me know if you're OK_ , and _Srsly, you OK or just this thin-skinned?_

The last one came this morning, right after Hux had fought to hold down a small helping of scrambled eggs and a side of overly dry toast:

> _Ignore the last text, mea culpa_
> 
> _Heading over to see the property again_
> 
> _Leaving for LA tomorrow_
> 
> _Would_ _like to tell you in person, but if not, thanks for showing me around_
> 
> _Always remember, the one person you'll always have to answer to in the end is yourself_

 

Hux braced himself on the edge of the sink, taking in a deep breath as he prepared to clean the dirty skillet.  The cold water hissed and beaded the still-hot surface. He began to scrub, the scouring pad rasping back and forth across the blackened surface until he came across a divot.  He frowned, picking up the pan and eyeing the crack which had formed between the poorly seasoned pores.

There was no way it was salvageable.  He remembered picking up the pan second hand when he had first moved to town; it had been cheap and functional, albeit a bit rusty and worn.  He had put in the effort to restore it, first removing the oxidation, then oiling and baking it several times over until the once-pitted surface turned smooth.  It was one of the first things he had purchased when he had struck out on his own, but over the years he had grown negligent in its maintenance, the surface turning gummy and porous before it finally broke.

Hux turned it over, feeling its comforting, familiar heft in his hand. It had been his faithful companion every morning for the past ten years.

He figured it was time to find a new one.

There were no more texts from Ben.  By one, Hux's head had felt slightly more attached and his stomach less like the contents had been thrown into a blender and turned on high.  He considered calling, but their interaction would likely have been awkward and stilted, and Hux couldn't handle another confrontation with Ben _I'm-doing-me_ Solo while he suffered the lingering effects of last night's indiscretion.

In a way, Hux felt as if he were betraying Ben's trust when he decided to Google his name. He hesitated, hovering over the "images" tab which appeared on the header of the screen.  Curiosity eventually won out over shame, and he resigned himself to his treachery as he clicked.

The results came one after the next in rapid succession, flooding his screen.  An older, black and white newspaper clipping of the Organa-Solos at a campaign rally showed a young Ben at their side, smiling hesitantly as he waved at the crowd, dressed in a tidy oxford and a pair of pressed khakis.  Another caught him mid-bite on the deck at the Seafood Shanty during a summer's night, the chunks of lobster meat sliding halfway out of its roll and onto his plate.

It didn't stop during his adolescent years.  The paparazzi had caught every acned outburst, fashion faux-pas, and decade-imposed hairstyle which Ben had endured.  One particular gem was snapped as he exited a restaurant, tall and disproportionately limbed, his hair spiked and the tips bleached.  He was holding hands with a girl who wore a "Free Winona" T-shirt, and the expression on both their faces as they looked up and saw the cameras was unequivocally one of  _Fuck You._

The majority of the images were more recent.  Pictures of Ben on set, laughing with a co-star in between takes.  Ben dressed in a suit at the Emmy's, beautiful yet awkward under all the attention.  Ben in a photoshoot for a magazine, his skin airbrushed to perfection, staring out at the reader with an intensity which no amount of photoshopping could hide.

The final one caught Hux's breath.  It was a candid shot, taken on the streets of LA.  The skies were sunny, and Ben was dressed in a fitted T-shirt and dark skinny jeans, walking with another man by his side.  The other male's face was tilted towards Ben, his brown eyes warm and laughing as his mouth spread in a toothy grin.  Ben's arm was slung around the shorter male's shoulders, his lips pressed close to the man's ear, as if hovering halfway between an intimate secret and a lover's kiss.

A pang of loneliness filled Hux's heart.  He wondered what it would feel like to love someone so openly, and to have it returned.  He thought about his own picture from his high school prom.  He and Jessika had faced one another, holding hands for the photographer in the middle of the high school gym.  She had worn a dreamy look on her face and a ruffled satin dress which showed off her curves. He had worn an ill-fitting tux and a practiced smile, one which never quite reached his eyes.

Hux trudged over to the bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back knowingly.  His eyes were pink-tinged and sad, their green irises dulled of any light. 

Hux gasped, not realizing that he had been digging his nails into the palms of his clenched fists.  Pinpricks of pain flared as the red indentations bloomed, marring his pale flesh.  He thought about Ben, so strong and determined, and how he had been able to get underneath Hux's skin.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember what it was to do something more than just float, to be propelled by something more than just the surrounding tide.

What it was to _feel._

His eyes flew open once he realized he had to swim.

It was nearly five by the time Hux had finally reached Boise.  He made the right on South Broadway, proceeding half a mile until he came upon the building.  It was freestanding--an unassuming storefront, small yet clean.  A young man was smoking outside, his long blonde hair falling artlessly across his face.  He jeans hung low off his slim hips, and his tank showed off his well-decorated arms.  He looked worry free and so impossibly young.  Hux guessed that he was no older than his mid-20s.

"Hey."  The boy looked up as he caught Hux staring.  Piercing gray eyes quickly traveled up and down.  "You Hux?"  The blonde pursed his lips as he exhaled, the blue smoke swirling around him before disappearing into the air.  His hands, despite their delicate appearance, looked strong and skilled.

"Yeah.  Are you the guy I spoke with on the phone?"

The guy gave Hux a cocky grin.  "Yeah, that's me."  He threw the butt down and ground it into the asphalt with his heel.  "You ready?"

"Yeah."  Hux swallowed uncomfortably.  "Look--I forgot to ask.  How much is this going to cost?  In case I need to get more money..." he trailed off, his face pink.

The blonde smiled, baring his teeth.  "It's usually around $100, but it really depends on what you want done.  Don't worry, we can negotiate all the details once we get inside." 

Hux realized the other male was waiting for him to move indoors.  "I'm sorry," Hux said, laughing nervously.  "I mean, I've been told that you're one of the best, but this is my first time and--well, you're a lot younger than what I would have thought."

The boy put his arm around Hux's back.  When he spoke, his voice had dropped into a confidential whisper, and his words made Hux's body thrum.

"Well, you've got one thing right.  I _am_ young, but don't mistake that for inexperience.  And I'm not _one of_ the best, I'm _the_ best.  All of the virgins around here come to me," he added, smirking as he led Hux inside.

By the time Hux walked out of the building, the full moon had risen over the Boise skyline and the foothills were merely shadows against the night sky.  His felt sore, yet sated, exhausted from the flood of adrenaline and endorphins as he basked in the afterglow.

The young man had handed him several packets of ointment before he left, reminding him to wash with a mild soap.  But Hux discovered that he actually welcomed the pain.  Whenever he moved, it was a constant reminder of what it was to finally feel.

And in that moment, he was starting to feel free.

 

Hux awoke the next morning, earlier than usual.  He padded to the window, startling a bit when he noted that Piell's cows were facing towards the western mountains instead of their typical position east.  He threw on a pair of worn jeans and a comfortably loose shirt and headed outdoors, wincing a bit as he walked.

The sky was a vast blue, yet his shoes remained light and dry, untouched by any dew.  He sniffed the air experimentally.  His eyes widened at the sharp, pungent charge of ozone which greeted his nostrils, its electric energy rattling his bones.

He walked back inside to start breakfast.  He selected three eggs, then replaced two back into their paper carton as he decided to make some griddle cakes instead.  He brought out the cornmeal and the flour, mixing the dry ingredients together before adding the buttermilk, egg and honey.  The batter slowly turned a creamy beige as he whisked, the mixture thinning as small bubbles formed and popped along its surface.

Hux started as he turned on the heat of the stove.  With the excitement of yesterday's events, he had forgotten to purchase a new skillet.  The general store would probably have an inexpensive one he could buy in a pinch.

He placed the batter in the refrigerator and headed out, driving twenty minutes east.  He slowed as he came upon the open gates of the Heinmot property with its faded _For Sale_ sign still out front.  The weathered wood and corrugated copper siding of the main home was easily visible from the road, surrounded by a fenced-in orchard and a matching barn.  The landscaped yard fared better than most; the purple blooms of the liatris and the vermillion of the indian paintbrush plants still bloomed, warming the cool greens of the fescue grass.  The windows of the Jeep were rolled down, and he could smell the fragrance of the yucca which permeated the air. 

Hux pulled over, letting his engine idle as he stared out over the land.  He wondered what Ben had thought when he first saw it--whether it had lived up to some crazy fantasy of becoming a gentleman rancher, or whether it had provided him with the solitude and peace which he sought.  He knew he was trespassing, but the gates were open, and before he could think about the possible repercussions, he shifted the car into first gear and went through.

The Jeep's tires crunched on the gravel road as it inched slowly forward.  The house was framed against the sprawling backdrop of the Sawtooths in the distance, yet perhaps the most beautiful thing was what lay directly ahead.

A figure stood, tall against the darkening sky. Hux could see the singed paper and the burning tobacco leaf which glowed red with each inhalation of those pursed lips.  A lump formed in his throat as he took in the bricolage of sharp angles and soft curves, so beguiling in their imperfection, the man's ebony hair blowing wildly in the gusting wind.

Those mercurial eyes, which had stared intently into the distance, widened imperceptibly upon hearing the approaching sound.

Hux swallowed loudly, his mouth suddenly dry.

Ben stared at Hux, before dropping his hand to ash his cigarette.  He looked so commanding, even as he was dwarfed by all the vastness, as if this was where he truly belonged.

"Hey," he said slowly, his expression carefully neutral.

"I-I thought you would be out of here by now."

There was a long pause.  "I changed my flight," Ben replied, sidestepping the obvious question.

"Oh."  Hux's breathing roared in his ears, amplified by the awkward silence.  His eyes lowered, taking in Ben's dress, loose and a bit rumpled but still so utterly perfect.  He blurted out his first thought, wishing to take it back the second it left his mouth.

"You _do_ own a pair of regular jeans," he said, his face flaming.

"I do," Ben said, a small smile creeping onto his face before his expression turned sad.  His voice was ragged when he next spoke.

"I thought you liked me Hux.  Me--not Ben Solo, paparazzi fodder, just... _me_."

"I did," Hux replied.  He looked down, ashamed as he scuffed his toe along the ground, kicking up the dry dirt in the process.  It was a wonder how anything could grow.  "I do," he amended. 

Ben's smile grew a bit larger at the admission. "And you came looking for me?" he drawled.

Hux watched him.  Ben's expression was a combination of cocky and sweet, yet there was also a yearning in his eyes.  "I didn't know you would be here," Hux answered honestly.  "I--just _missed_ you."  His traitorous body moved a step closer.

"I want you, Hux." Ben's said, his voice thick and rough. "I want to get to know you.  I want to be able to show you how great it could be."

Hux stared as Ben flicked the dying cigarette into the ground and leaned forward.  His large hands reached over to cup Hux's face, as the sky continued to darken and the clouds began to roll.  A crackling of ozone and the scent of the earth filled the air as Hux was consumed by the need for Ben's touch.

" _Ben,"_ he choked out as he arched into his grasp.

Their kiss was gentle at first, the tease of soft flesh against one another as the raindrops began to hit.  Ben smelled of tobacco and petrichor.  A tingling heat spread through Hux's chest in response to his scent.

Hux opened his eyes.  His pupils were dilated, and the scattering light of the churning skies turned his irises to a stormy green.  Ben watched him fervently, before drawing him back in.  He murmured Hux's name, a mantra whispered against his skin, sweet with the taste of the summer rain and the softness of his mouth.  Their arms wound around one another as Hux buried his hands in Ben's hair, his fingers carding through those glorious locks as the electricity crackled through the air.

A lightning bolt jolted across the roiling sky, followed by the echoing boom of thunder less than a second apart.  Ben grabbed Hux's hands and pulled him towards his car, the growing storm soaking their clothes and muddying their shoes as the trees bent and the grass rippled underneath its force.

"I'd prefer if we didn't become the literal definitions of _la petite mort_ ," Ben shouted over the wind.  "There's a barn further ahead that we can take shelter in."

Hux wasn't sure how they made it to the sodden structure; their hands and mouths were all over one another, the Porsche swerving erratically along the roughly paved path, its windshield coated thick with rain.  By the time they stumbled into the barn, their clothes were completely stuck to their fevered skin.

The remnants of the rain clung to Ben's long lashes and dripped down his throat.  Hux took his thumb and wiped it gently along Ben's cheek.  His intake of breath was promptly reduced to a moan as Ben turned his head and took him inside his mouth. Ben licked and sucked, his tongue swirling around the callused skin, as Hux's cock hardened sympathetically in response. 

Ben shifted, repositioning himself on top as Hux lay down on the soft floor.  He licked along the curve of Hux's neck, nipping and mouthing along the vulnerable curve until it developed into a purpling bloom.  He ran his hands along Hux's ribs, each tick a syncopated rhythm against the pinging rain, his greedy lips following their path until they were mouthing over Hux's crotch.  Hux moaned in response, his hips pressing up desperately as if to force his cock past the constraints of his damp clothing and into the haven of Ben's warm mouth.

Hux growled in response, placing his hand on the placket of Hux's jeans.  When he spoke, his voice was trembling with his need.

"Please," he rasped. "Let me taste you. I want to see all of you."

Hux nodded.  Ben's hands flew, undoing each button of Hux's fly, each loosed fastening  revealing more of the pale pink cock which was hidden underneath. In his eagerness Ben tugged against the waist of Hux's jeans.

Hux let out a hiss of pain as the rough fabric caught his hip.

Ben stopped, uncertainty in his eyes.  Hux grit his teeth as he gingerly lowered his jeans.

"Oh my God, Hux.  When?" Ben asked, staring at the inky black image and the reddened skin underneath.

Hux flushed.  The raised lines of a spiraling nautilus stared back at him, defiantly loud against the background of his pale skin.

"Yesterday afternoon.  You said it symbolized protection and intimacy."  His eyes met Ben's.  "I figured it was a good place to start."

 

 

 Hux stole a look at Ben's own tattoos, the multiple patterns nearly filling the entire space of his left arm, suddenly self-conscious about the shell's small size and location.

"I figured that I could always expand upon it later, if I wanted.  The artist said that he could bring it up the side, or even down into the leg..."

Ben placed a finger against Hux's lips.

"It's perfect," he said, in awe.  "And it's so fucking hot."  He brushed his lips close to the sensitive skin, the touch teasing and electric as he licked around the edges to take away the pain.

He quickly slid Hux out of his jeans and took him into his mouth, his gorgeous lips stretching wide around Hux's prick.  Hux keened under the sensation, the rough and flat swipes along the shaft alternating with the swirling flickers which teased the head.  He rolled his hips, unable to stop the whimper which escaped his throat as Ben took him all the way in.

"Ben," Hux whined.  With great reluctance, he pulled Ben off his throbbing cock, shivering at the sight of his red and swollen lips.

"I want you to fuck me.  I want to come with your cock inside of me," Hux begged.

Ben raised himself up and licked into his mouth.  Hux tasted Ben's desire, and the bitter hint of his own pre-come on Ben's tongue.

"You have no idea how much I want that too, Hux.  But you're not ready yet." Ben shifted, pressing his considerable length against Hux's thigh.  "I'm not exactly small.  It will take some time to work up to that, if you're not used to taking it.  But we have time for a lot of firsts.  And I don't mind bottoming."

Hux's world suddenly tilted upon hearing those words.  His brain stuttered over the phrases _We have time_ and _A lot of firsts_.  Because the implication would be...

But in the next breath, any continuation of thought was lost.  Ben lowered his Levis, exposing his huge and perfect cock.  Hux stared as Ben lay with his back against the floor, his knees bent and falling open to the side.

And after Hux's mind was lost, his breath soon followed, because Ben began laving his fingers with his tongue, slicking them with his spit before inserting those thick fingers up his ass.  He worked his digits in and out, his gorgeous, leaking cock slapping against the muscles of his stomach with each thrust.

It was hotter than any video Hux had ever seen.  Ben continued to fuck himself with his hand, his eyes growing half-lidded as his mouth dropped open, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on Hux.

Hux suddenly remembered something through the haze of his lust.  He scrambled to his jeans, reaching into its pockets before handing several foil packets over to Ben.

"A and D ointment?" Ben asked, craning his neck.  He laughed, his fingers suddenly still.  "Makes more sense to carry around your back pocket instead of something impractical like spare change."

Hux made a moue.

"For your information, I was given them to take care of the tattoo," he said as he opened another, slathering the contents over his own cock.

"I like this use much better." Ben's voice lowered dangerously, no longer a teasing growl.  "Come here."  He had finished prepping himself with the ointment.  His hole lay exposed and open, the pink and furled edges loosened and glistening wet.

 _Oh God_.  Hux squeezed his cock to prevent himself from coming right then and there.  He leaned forward, his heart racing as he positioned his prick.

After twenty nine years, this was really happening.  This was really it.

He pushed in slowly, hesitating at the resistance before he breached that tight ring of muscle.  At Ben's encouraging look, he slid further in.  He gasped at the heat and friction which welcomed him, inching in slowly as Ben urged him on.

Hux gave an experimental swivel of his hips.

" _Fuck_ ," he gritted out, holding still.

Ben laughed shakily.  "I'm all for sweet and slow, Hux, but if you don't move right now..."

And then Hux did.  He moved into Ben's warmth, marveling at the way it sheathed his dick, the muscles of his ass gripping him perfectly as he pistoned inside those velvety walls.  Ben's eyes grew dark, his head arching as he wrapped his long legs around Hux's waist.  Hux fucked him as the rain drummed its primal beat, surrounded by the earthy smells of the wet hay and the damp wood, their bodies fitting perfectly against one another, slicked by the rain and their sweat.

"I'm so close," Ben moaned as he reached down to grab his cock.  He pumped the shaft, its size barely contained in his huge fist.  Hux tensed, trying to match his thrusts with the frantic movements of Ben's hand.  His vision whitened and heart pounded as he tried to stave off the building pressure inside his groin, unable to hold back any further when Ben finally came with a shout.  The thick ropes of come spurted over his belly and onto his chest, and Hux followed afterwards, filling Ben's ass with his own release.

Hux gave several more feeble pumps before his legs gave out in protest.  He collapsed on top of Ben, their bodies a tangle of sticky fluids and sore limbs.

Ben stroked Hux's shoulder and pressed a kiss against his ear.  Hux felt his softening cock slip; he sighed as he removed himself slowly, before curling back against Ben's side.

"Better than your other first time?"  Ben asked.  His warm breath ruffled the strands of hair surrounding Hux's face.

"Hmmmm." Hux considered teasingly as he looked up at Ben from underneath his pale lashes.  "I'm not sure.  I may have to give it another go to make sure.  Purely for the sake of decision making, that is."

Ben laughed quietly, the vibrations rumbling through his chest.  They lay together, listening to the steadiness of the falling rain and the guttural calls of a white-tailed kite in the distance, it chattering whistle soaring above the synchronized beating of their hearts.

"You know, I put in an offer on this place." Ben said softly.

Hux lifted his head, his heart suddenly caught in his throat.

"You did?  Do you think you'll get it?"

Ben shrugged nonchalantly even as his fingers curled protectively over Hux's own.

"There's a good chance.  It's been on the market for years.  I think it was a fair offer, all things considering."

Hux lay back down.  He snuggled against his tall length, memorizing the rise and fall of Ben's chest, and the steadiness of his heart.

He doesn't know what will happen, what the future of their relationship, if any, will hold.  But for the first time in many years, Hux feels the stirrings of hope.

When he closes his eyes, he sees a road.  It beckons to him.  It is blocked by a gate, but the path beyond it lies open and full of promise.

Hux takes a deep breath as he contemplates his next move.

He walks forward.  He lifts his head proudly and smiles, his hand unwavering as he finally pushes through.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The towns in this story, with the exception of Shoshone and Boise, are fictional.  
>  **SINOPA:** from the Blackfoot and Cayuse, "Fox cub"  
>  **HEINMOT:** from the Nez Perce, "Thunder"
> 
> *Come say "hi" on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nerdherderette)


End file.
